


The (Re)Turn of the Phantom

by RedThreat



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Horror, Mystery, Retelling, The Turn of the Screw retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:35:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25955329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedThreat/pseuds/RedThreat
Summary: Diedrich had not expected that babysitting the Phantomhive twins would be an enjoyable affair.He had also not expected for it to go so horribly, horribly wrong...(The Turn of the Screwretelling; was part of the Pawn & Prey fanzine)
Kudos: 4





	1. Pawn and Prey Cut

**Author's Note:**

> Last year, I was very lucky to have been chosen for the Pawn and Prey Fanzine (https://blackbutlerfanzine.tumblr.com/), and now I finally get to post the story I wrote for it!^^
> 
> It's a retelling of _The Turn of the Screw_ by Henry James. Last year, it was sort of a "Turn of the Screw-y" year for me as I read the novella and an author whose previous book I enjoyed released a "Turn" retelling which I also read (The Turn of the Key by Ruth Ware, btw) and there was even a movie based on the story I think (The Turning or sth?) which I did not watch, but when I got the chance to be part of the zine, I thought "hey, this story has been haunting me for quite some time this year, why not try a retelling myself?" Especially considering that it would fit with the theme (horror).
> 
> The first chapter is the final cut which was put in the zine (and which was very kindly beta-read by [thislittlekumquat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thislittlekumquat)). The second is the extended version which I wrote first and then cut and cut and cut to adhere to the word count (and which was only slightly edited since). I am quite content with both versions, but I thought it would be somewhat fun to include both. (It's the same story though.)
> 
> This is my first "horror" story and I hope it's okay and that you will enjoy reading it^^

**_October 13, 1884_** — Shadows loomed over the still toy faces, danced over the book spines. Trees scratched on the windows to the ever-moving time, the ever-ticking clock: _eight eleven, eight twelve, eight thirteen_ … And with the day gone and night having come, Diedrich truly felt the weight of what he had done.

In one moment, Diedrich heard that someone had broken into Phantomhive Manor to assassinate Vincent and his family and that Tanaka had got hurt catching the intruder. In the next, Vincent lamented about his upcoming anniversary: the planned Venice visit, Chlaus’ Italian lessons, how with the intrusion fresh in their minds and Tanaka injured, he and Rachel couldn’t go. In another, Diedrich arrived at Phantomhive Manor. When he had said “yes,” he had only wanted to stop Vincent’s whining, _not_ look after Vincent and Rachel’s twins.

Ciel’s voice pierced Diedrich’s thoughts and brought him back to the eerie gloom of the twins’ bedroom: “Uncle Dee, will you tell us a story?”

He said “no,” and when Ciel suggested to tell _him_ a story instead, Diedrich answered the same. But he was ignored, and Ciel—being as irritable as Vincent—started his tale nevertheless: “Phantomhive Manor saw many deaths,” he said, sitting up while Cedric—little Cid—pulled his sheets higher.

In the swaying candlelight, Ciel’s gesticulations threw long shadows on the walls. “The old and the young, the ill and the healthy took their last breaths here. While many brought their souls to rest, others haven’t: Every night, they break free of their confines and wander the corridors, searching for a body to steal.”

It turned nine. Blowing out the candle, Diedrich bid the twins goodnight and left the room. Behind him, he heard a dress’ soft rustling.

When he turned, the corridor was empty.

***

**_October 14_** — Diedrich had encountered many apparent impossibilities, but spectres were something else entirely: By no logic and no means, they could exist. Still, Ciel’s story had shaken up Diedrich’s exhausted mind, waking him with every creak of the floorboards.

The servant that helped Diedrich to get dressed was, unlike yesterday, slow and clumsy, his mind seemingly elsewhere. It took ages for Diedrich to get ready and face another long, weary day with the twins. And every morning and every night, when the boys were asleep, Diedrich settled down with a book, sandwiches, and half a pot of tea his servant brought him.

***

**_October 16_** — His servant had become more irritable and incompetent—Diedrich more and more on edge. With each unintelligible whisper, the break between his night and morning reading session got smaller and smaller until Diedrich ceased to sleep altogether.

***

**_October 18_** — This was madness; what he did was silly—he knew that. Diedrich forced himself back to normality, back to sleeping long and sound without relying on books, tea, and sandwiches to keep his dread at bay.

***

**_October 21_** — A storm clawed at the façade when Cid came to his room. Hadn’t Diedrich known how terrified Cid was of thunderstorms, he wouldn’t have let him in. The sleep he got lately hadn’t made his uneasiness disappear; instead, it remained as a bitter aftertaste. Sighing, Diedrich made some space, and Cid climbed into his bed. Diedrich shut his eyes when—

“Don’t worry about Ciel’s story, Uncle Diedrich,” Cid whispered. “I’ve read everything on the manor’s history. Trust me when I say that Ciel’s wrong: No ghosts wander the corridors.”

Cid sounded sincere and, unlike Ciel, he wasn’t like Vincent. Of course, he told the truth—how could Diedrich have allowed himself to get so worked up because of—

“They are inside the walls, not in the corridors: A construction worker killed someone and hid their corpse in the walls. But the ghost is only strong enough to come out when the nights get longer and Halloween closer.

“Goodnight, Uncle Diedrich.”

***

**_October 23_** — The wallpaper was coming off. The days were creeping towards Halloween. If Cid spoke the truth, whatever was lurking in the walls would be at its full strength soon.

Diedrich hadn’t talked to anyone, fearing that they could think of him as mad. Now, he yearned for confirmation that this wasn’t a bad joke. So, Diedrich went to the only person in the manor he could truly and fully trust: Tanaka.

Diedrich gulped down his tea, glued back the wallpaper, and went to Tanaka’s room. Since he had been injured, Tanaka spent most of his time there.

“How can I help you, Baron?” Tanaka asked, putting away Dickens’ _Bleak House_.

“Have you heard anything about people buried in the manor’s walls?”

“Buried people? This sounds like Hitobashira: In Japan, people used to bury others in walls and pillars, believing that this would protect the building.”

“Didn’t the buried haunt them?”

“Their souls never harmed the residents. I don’t know anything about people buried here, though. If the thought of it bothers you, I can look into it.”

Diedrich thanked him and left. Cid and Ciel spent a lot of time with Tanaka. What if Tanaka had told them about Hitobashira, and they had decided to spin a story around it to scare him? Diedrich returned to his room and, on the way, he heard steps and a skirt brushing the ground.

With a gun in his hand, Diedrich turned, saw a woman vanishing around a corner, and ran after her. _An intruder._ _No ghost, but a human of flesh and blood._

He had been close to the woman when he charged at her, but around the corner, in this corridor with no doors and continuation, she was nowhere.

***

**_October 24_** — Diedrich didn’t let the twins stay in the manor. It had too many hiding places. Outside, it was easier for Diedrich to look after them: After all, because of frail Cid, they couldn’t get far.

***

**_October 26_** — The twins played by the garden’s pond, oblivious of the threat looming over them—of the strange, lovely woman watching.

It took Diedrich a moment to realise that her presence was _wrong_ : She stood there so serenely, so proud by the skeletal orchard as if she belonged—then the clouds shifted and the sickly sunlight didn’t brush her, and Diedrich knew that Cid was right.

***

**_October 27_** — The cup nearly fell out of his hands. It was night. The twins were sleeping. For once, Diedrich was thankful for the eerie whispers: Sleepless as he was, he could patrol outside their room all night. With a book and tea, he positioned himself in front of their door.

***

**_October 30_** — The wallpaper came off again. The whispering was a disease getting stronger—infesting his mind, seeping into the children… Diedrich saw them in the garden at night—only to find them asleep in their beds afterwards. They appeared out of nowhere, talked to someone while being alone.

The weather took a turn for the worse, leaving them trapped inside. Everything fell apart—like the wallpaper, like the teacup falling from his hands. It was all _her_ doing: She had enchanted the boys. But the game wasn’t over; it wasn’t Halloween yet. Diedrich could still win. The teacup shards crunched beneath his feet, its tea having long seeped into the carpet and the house’s fundaments, when Diedrich marched to the boys’ room. They weren’t there, but the room wasn’t empty.

Diedrich’s blade tore her dress before it went through it. His heart raced. He faltered for a second, only a second, and she was gone.

Diedrich had no time to lose. He ran; he shouted. No time, no time, and no twins either. Or anyone else. It was only him in this big manor with every door shut and locked and no way to go. Where were they? When he found them, _she_ was there as well, watching them do something in a corner.

Diedrich shouted at them. They didn’t hear. They didn’t react. He crossed the attic, took their shoulders and shook them. _Whatareyoudoingwhatareyoudoingwhat–_

The woman walked to him, brushed her cold fingers over him. He let go, turned to her, and…

***

**_November 8_** — “You’ve slept for so long. How are you?”

Vincent and Rachel had returned. Tanaka had told him.

“Ciel is sorry. He’ll apologise to you in person when you’re better. He found Lau’s drugs and instructed your servant to put them into your tea. Lau told him they were ‘funny makers.’ Ciel wanted you to relax, but they caused you to hallucinate and intensified the twins’ pranks with the secret passages and the master key.”

“The spectre—I touched her.”

“Tanaka looked into it. It’s true, but the killed person wasn’t a ‘her’: It was a young boy named Miles Florin.”

“I cannot have hallucinated her; I don’t know her.”

“Such things happen, Dee: You saw her in passing, glimpsed at her face, and your mind stored her away even if you cannot remember.”

“I saw her so vividly… this tall woman with the raven hair and deep blue eyes. If she wasn’t a ghost, then who was she?”

Vincent was still for a moment. When he spoke anew, there was something strange in his voice. “I see.”


	2. Extended Version

**Countryside, England, United Kingdom – October 1884**

It was ten past eight. The light in the room was dim, shadows were looming over the still faces of the toys, dancing over the spines of books. An owl was hooting in the distance; trees scratched on the windows – and the time kept on moving, and the clock kept on ticking: _eight eleven, eight twelve, eight thirteen_ … And with the day moving steadily to its end, with the day gone and the night having come, Diedrich truly felt the weight of what he had done.

For him, it had started with a “yes,” but before that, there had been an assassination. An attempted one, at least.

When Diedrich had received a letter from Vincent many weeks back, detailing an intrusion, an attempt on his life, and Tanaka catching the intruder and breaking his leg in the process, he had not thought much of it and set it aside. People always broke into Phantomhive Manor. People always tried to murder Vincent Phantomhive. Diedrich had already forgotten about the ordeal when Vincent had reached out to him some weeks before.

When Diedrich had said “yes,” he had only wanted to quieten Vincent down, to make him stop talking about his upcoming tenth wedding anniversary, his planned visit to Venice, all the Italian lessons he had received from Chlaus – his lament that, with the intrusion so fresh in their minds and with Tanaka’s leg still injured, they would not be able to go. Diedrich had only wanted to be freed from his whining; he had never wanted to be where he was now: In Phantomhive Manor, looking after Vincent and Rachel’s twin sons.

The owl was joined by the howling, by the prowling wind, and the clock chimed eight sixteen when Ciel’s voice pierced through Diedrich’s accumulating dread and numbness and brought him back to the eerie gloom of the twins’ bedroom: “Uncle Dee, will you tell us a story?”

This time, he said “no,” and when Ciel suggested to tell _him_ a story instead, Diedrich answered the same. But he was ignored, and Ciel – having always been as irritable as his father – started his tale nevertheless: “Phantomhive Manor is an old place,” he said and sat up in his bed while his brother Cedric – little Cid – pulled his sheets higher as if he knew what was coming.

Ciel’s blue eyes were illuminated by the pale, swaying candle flame, his face was half-kissed by darkness, and his gesticulations threw odd, long shadows on the bedroom walls as he told his tale: “Phantomhive Manor is an old place,” he repeated. “And like every old place, it saw many deaths: of the old and the young, of the ill and the healthy. This is their tomb, the place they took their last breaths, spoke their final words; and while many have brought their souls here to rest, others have not – and every night at the witching hour, they break free of their confines of the day and wander around the corridors, searching for a body to make theirs.”

In the silence that followed, the clock chimed nine, and Diedrich knew to say goodbye: blowing out the candle, watching its smoke rise to the dark, he bid the twins goodnight and left the room for good with his mind and body tired and a chill having awakened in his bones when he heard the wind crying and a dress softly rustling.

But when he turned, there was no one to be seen.

***

The sun rose slowly and steadily, its pale light gently waking the slumbering world: The trees’ mismatched colours were illuminated brilliantly, the fallen leaves carried away by the freezing morning wind, the bushes and grass sighing at the day’s first sunlight. Somewhere, an owl was hooting its early chant; somewhere, ants were set into motion, and rodents strode out of their dens for breakfast. The world outside was slowly awakening, and in the world inside, Diedrich had been wide awake throughout the night.

Diedrich had encountered his fair share of curious people and apparent impossibilities, but spectres were something else entirely: By no logic and by no means, they could exist. Still, Ciel’s story had shaken up Diedrich’s exhausted mind and fuelled the chill clambering around his bones, making him wake and jump at every change of moonlight, at every howl coming from outside.

The servant that helped Diedrich to get dressed was slow and clumsy today, his mind seemingly somewhere else, and it took ages for him to finish, for Diedrich to get ready and face yet another long, weary day with the Phantomhive twins. Day by day, his life passed like this: enduring his servant’s incompetence – how typical of Vincent to give him into the care of his greatest blighter – and Ciel and Cid. Sometimes, Diedrich would seek out Tanaka for counsel about the twins or if he simply needed a break from talking to eight-year-olds all day long. And, every day, in the morning and late at night, when the boys had still not risen or were fast asleep, Diedrich settled down in front of his chamber’s fireplace with a book, tea, and a plate of cucumber sandwiches his servant brought him. What had been an attempt to ease his mind, to calm his body at first during the little time he had when the twins were asleep slowly found another purpose: With each night, with each scratching sound, with each unintelligible whisper and creak of the floorboards, the break between his night and morning reading session got smaller and smaller until Diedrich ceased to sleep altogether.

He told himself that he did not care for ghosts, told himself that what he was doing was silly, that his mind was strained and had run wild with Ciel’s story. When he forced himself back to sleep, back to normality, back to sleeping long and sound without relying on books and tea and sandwiches to keep his dread at bay, all his hard work was shattered one gloomy, stormy night.

Diedrich knew the twins since their birth, knew that while they looked the same outside, they were different as day and night inside: Where Ciel was brave, Cid was timid; where Ciel was loud, Cid was silent. And when the storm was thundering outside, bending the trees and clawing at the manor’s façade, it was not Ciel, but Cid that slipped into his room at night.

Cid knocked once faintly, then slightly bolder before he opened the door and looked inside. Although Diedrich had managed to sleep relatively soundly in the last couple of days, his uneasiness had not fully disappeared, but remained as a bitter aftertaste, as a reminder, as a cruel _what if_. If Diedrich had not known how terrified Cid was of thunderstorms, he would have never let the boy come in; all he could do now was sigh and make some space on his bed. With a soft “thanks” and a shy smile, Cid climbed into his bed, and when he had made himself comfortable, Diedrich shut his eyes and diverted his thoughts to falling asleep and not to the creaking sounds and the furious storm like he had done in the past nights when –

“Do not worry, Uncle Diedrich,” Cid said. “You seem to be worried, and when it’s about Ciel’s story… then you do not have to. I have read all the books on the manor’s history, and you can trust me when I say that Ciel’s wrong: No ghosts are wandering through the manor’s corridors.”

Perhaps, it had been the right decision to let Cid in after all. He sounded sincere and, unlike Ciel, he was not as mischievous as his father. Of course, he was telling the truth – how could have Diedrich thought for even a moment that Ciel’s story was true in any way? How could he have allowed himself to get so worked up because of –

“The ghosts do not wander through the corridors,” continued Cid, “because they are inside the walls: When the manor was built, one of the construction workers killed someone and hid their corpse somewhere in the walls and now their ghost is trapped in them. But don’t worry, Uncle Diedrich, the ghost is only strong enough to come out when the nights get longer and Halloween closer.” He heard him turning around. “Good night, Uncle Diedrich.”

***

Dust was swirling in the candle’s flame; a small part of the blue and yellow’s wallpaper was coming off – and Diedrich’s gaze was fixated on a calendar in front of him: The days were creeping towards Halloween in a terrifying speed, and if what Cid had told him was true, whatever was lurking in the walls and keeping him awake at night would be at its full strength in the blink of an eye.

Diedrich had to do something. He had hesitated to talk with anyone about Ciel’s story and the noises he heard at night because he had feared that someone could think of him as mad and because the entire affair was mad to him as well. But now, he yearned for confirmation that the boys were not lying to him, that this was not a bad joke. And so, Diedrich went to the only person in the entire manor he could truly and fully trust: Tanaka.

He gulped down his tea, glued back the wallpaper, and went to search for Tanaka; since he had been injured, the old butler spent most of his time in his room, and that’s where Diedrich ultimately found him. Diedrich knocked on his door and stepped inside the room when Tanaka invited him in. “How can I help you, Baron?” he asked, putting away the book he had been reading – _Bleak House_ by Dickens.

“I have read that people have been buried in the manor’s wall,” Diedrich said. “And I wanted to ask you if you have heard of it.”

“Buried people?” said Tanaka, frowning. “I have not heard that any people have been buried in the walls here, but this reminds me of the old practice of Hitobashira: In Japan, people used to bury others in walls and pillars because they believed that this would build a ‘magical ward’ which would protect the building.”

“Didn’t they think the buried would haunt them?”

Tanaka shook his head. “No. Their souls never did any harm to the residents. It is only a superstition anyway. As I have said, I do not know anything about people buried in the manor’s walls, but if the thought of it is bothering you so much, I can look into it. It will be quite refreshing to have a clear-cut task again.”

Diedrich thanked him and left the room. Cid and Ciel spent a lot of time with Tanaka, especially the former was often with him due to his frail condition. What if Tanaka had told them about the Hitobashira practice as well, and the twins had decided to spin a story around it to scare him? He still pondered over it when he arrived at his room – and when Diedrich touched the doorknob, half-turning it, he felt a chill run over his spine and a sudden coldness passing behind him. With it came the sounds of steps and a skirt’s hem brushing the ground.

With a pounding heart and a gun in his hand, Diedrich turned around, saw a woman vanishing around a corner, and ran after her. _An intruder_ , he thought. _No ghost, but a human of flesh and blood haunting this manor and waiting for the right time to strike._

He had always been quick, had been close to her when he charged at her, but around the corner, in this corridor with no doors and no continuation, she was nowhere to be seen.

***

He did not leave the boys. Until he had found and caught the mysterious woman, he would not let Ciel and Cid get out of his sight – or stay in the manor. It had too many nooks and crannies that were unknown to him, too many secret passages, too many rooms and people and places to hide. Outside, it was easier for Diedrich to look after the twins: He told them not to go too far and because of frail, little Cid Phantomhive – bundled up in multiple layers and almost vanishing underneath them – they could not get far anyway. Like that, they were always in plain sight for him while Diedrich sipped his tea and ate his sandwiches and scrutinised the garden. Sometimes, he would take them to the village nearby so that they would not tire of the garden too soon. Like this, days passed and the trees were drained and drained of their colour and leaves and the twins stayed content and safe – and, above all, oblivious to the threat looming over them.

And as oblivious as in those quiet, peaceful days they were when they played by the garden’s pond, not only watched by Diedrich, but by a lovely, strange woman as well.

It took him a moment to realise that her presence was _wrong_ : She stood there so serenely, so still and calm, so straight-backed and proud by the skeletal orchard that it seemed that she belonged, but then the clouds shifted and the sickly autumn sunlight did not quite brush her, did not quite touch her, and Diedrich knew.

He was up in an instant, but when he reached her, she was already gone.

***

The cup nearly fell out his hands. It was night and the twins were sleeping soundly in their beds. It was the hardest to protect them at night as Diedrich could not justify staying with them throughout it. In this matter, the endless haunting, the noises coming from everywhere that kept him awake had done him a favour: Sleepless as he already was, Diedrich could patrol outside their room all night. With a book, tea, and sandwiches he positioned himself in front of their bedroom door, hoping that no one – material or not – would pass; and if they did, that he would be able to catch them.

With all Diedrich had seen and heard, Cid seemed to have been right: The woman by the orchard had looked nearly solid which meant that she was close to reaching the peak of her strength. What if she became solid and harmed one or both of the twins?

_Every night at the witching hour_ , Diedrich remembered Ciel’s words, _they break free of their confines of the day and wander around the corridors, searching for a body to make theirs_. What if she did not solely mean to harm them – but to steal one of their bodies as well?

***

He feared that it had already started; all was out of control. The wallpaper was coming off again, the whispering got louder and louder – and the children, oh God, _the children_.

_I have failed_ , Diedrich thought, seeing them in one place at one moment and in a completely different one a second later. _I have failed_ , he thought when he saw them running around the garden in the dead of night – only to find them fast asleep in their beds when he checked on them.

It was the weather; the weather had taken a turn for the worse, leaving them trapped inside. It was not _his_ fault that this had happened, that Cid and Ciel did not listen, that they knew this place better than he did… _But it_ is _my fault because I have been incapable of doing anything_ , Diedrich thought grimly, terrified when Cid – still so knowledgeable and sick – grew more confident, when Ciel became timider and started to display knowledge of things only his brother should know.

When they seemingly began to appear out of thin air.

When they grew more and more secretive by the hour.

When they talked to someone even though they were all alone.

When everything around him fell apart, like the wallpaper, like the cup of tea that fell from his hands, like his mind; and Diedrich knew that it was all _her_ doing. She had enchanted the boys, and now the twins were doing her bidding. And together and together…

But the game was still not over; it was not Halloween yet, would not be for another few nights. Diedrich was determined to change everything around; he could still win – who was he to give up so easily? The shards of the teacup crunched underneath his feet, the tea had long seeped into the carpet and the house’s fundaments, when Diedrich marched to the boys’ room.

They were not there, but the room was not empty – and when he charged at her, his blade tore her dress before it went through it. His blood went cold. His heart raced; a sound that seemed so far away. Diedrich faltered for a second, only a second, a terrible second, and she was gone – and he knew where she would be. Why else should she have come to Ciel and Cid’s bedroom?

Diedrich ran out of the room. He had no time to lose. He shouted; he ran. No time, no time, and no twins either. Or anyone else. It was only him in this big manor with every door shut and locked and no way to go.

Where were they? Where was she? Where was he? And when he found them, _she_ was there as well in the attic with no wallpaper, watching them do something in a corner as oblivious as they were when they played by the pond.

Diedrich’s voice sounded detached when he shouted at them. They did not hear. They did not react. He crossed the attic, took them by their shoulders and shook them. _Whatareyoudoingwhatareyoudoingwhat–_

And then, the woman walked to him, brushed her cold fingers over him, and he let go and turned to her and…

***

“You have slept for so long. How are you?”

Vincent and Rachel had returned. Tanaka had told him.

“Ciel is very sorry. He will apologise to you in person when you are better. The child got his hands on some of Lau’s drugs and instructed your servant to put them in your tea. Lau told him that they were ‘funny makers’ and he wanted you to relax, but they only caused you to hallucinate. You did not hallucinate everything though: Ciel and Cid used the secret corridors to confuse you and the master key to lock every door.”

“The… the ghost. I touched her.”

“‘Her’? Dee, Tanaka has looked into the ‘people in the walls’ story, and it is true: One of the construction workers killed someone and hid their corpse in the walls. But it was not a ‘her’: It was a young boy, around Ciel and Cid’s age, named Miles Florin.”

“I cannot have hallucinated her; I have never seen her before. I do not know her.”

“Things like that can happen, Dee: You saw her in passing one day, glimpsed at her face somewhere, and your mind stored her away even if you cannot remember.”

“But I saw her so vividly… this tall woman with the raven hair and deep blue eyes. If she was not a ghost, then who was she?”

Vincent was still for a moment, and when he spoke anew, there was something odd and strange in his voice. “I see.”


End file.
